Sanctuary
by Lunnar-Eclipse
Summary: A woman who has been imprisoned for months in a Russia, one day gets a mysterious man as her 'cell mate.' What she doesn't know, is that this man will change her life forever.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: One Foot Wrong

"Get up, move, now!" The woman snarled in Russian, her black hair falling into her face. The frail and frightened woman in front of her obeyed immediately getting up and making her shaking way towards a door. The Russian woman with black hair rolled her eyes at the woman's slow haste, and jabbed her in the back with a whip. "Come on, move it. We don't have all day here you know?" She snarled, cracking the whip against the concrete walls. The scared woman jumped and made a soft whimpering noise before cowering into the next room. The Russian woman smirked, and walked over circling the other. She spat at the woman's feet, and then folded her arms to her chest. "Close the door." She whispered, and a buff man walked out from nowhere and shut the door behind them; it's metal surface _clanking _once it was shut securely.

The Russian woman stopped walking and then looked at the pitiful specimen in front of her, thinking on how to get the truth out of her this time. "So, you know the drill sweetheart; I ask you questions and you answer them. If you don't give me what I want—well, you've been in here long enough to know what will happen." She then gave a cruel smile, and wacked the whip against the cold floor, causing the frightened woman to yelp and back up against the wall. "Do I frighten you darling? Oh well, you shouldn't be scared of me. In fact, we _could _have been great friends…. If only you didn't try to escape those previous three times." The Russian walked over swiftly and grabbed the woman by the hair. "Speak bitch!" She snarled, causing the woman to scream in agony and fear. "Speak and all of this will be forgotten." The Russian stated calmly, as though she had stated this lie thousands of times. _That's what she said last time, and the time before that… How many times must I take this until they've learned that I cannot be satisfied by these reassurances anymore? _The woman's mind was ablaze, and her veins pulsed with anger and fear, but nothing she could say or do would make a difference in the Russian's opinion on her.

"Like I've said all those other times miss, I know nothing." There was a loud _crack_ and the Russian had whipped the woman on her shoulder. The woman hissed in pain, and her eyes filled with tears but she did not make a sound. "Do not lie to me." The Russian hissed, and inched closer towards the cowering figure. "I am not lying." The woman stated calmly, and the whip cracked again. "How many times must we go through this, _Jasmine_?" The woman, Jasmine, shuddered at having her name muttered by such a disgusting person. "As many times as it takes to finally let it sink into your heads that I know nothing." Jasmine hissed, and the Russian raised an eyebrow at her behavior. "You think showing off that 'kind' of behavior is going to let you go off easier here?" The Russian hissed, making Jasmine flinch at her stupidity and thoughts of another day of torture. "Put one foot wrong out here, and somebody gets it, and that somebody is you." The Russian snarled, and another crack of the whip. "Let's see, I'm feeling happy today and rather lenient, so we'll just give you the usual." She smirked and snapped her fingers and a man appeared with a whip, and a bag. Jasmine bowed her head and fell silent, letting the man whip away and the salt sting her wounds.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: New Cell Mate

Jasmine sat huddled in her corner, shaking from the pain and rubbing at her wounds trying to remove the salt as quickly as possible. "Those bastards…" She mumbled, and spit at her hand, hissing as she touched the already infected wounds. She felt tears sting her eyes, and let them fall. She didn't care anymore about showing weakness in front of the Russians.

At first, thinking of showing off weakness meant that they would treat her rougher to get her to spill out the information quicker out of fear. But, putting her walls up meant that they treated her even _worse_. Water boarding the first few days and when that didn't work whipping. That didn't work, the Russian woman let her soldiers have they're way. That's what really broke Jasmine's fighting spirit. Call it childish or even silly but she always thought that her virginity was well—something sacred. She thought that when she finally found the love she wanted to share it with, that she would embrace the new feeling, not despise it. Now, scarred for life mentally and physically, she knew that there was no way of rekindling that fire she once had. Filled with agony and misery, she forced her mind to do something, anything.

She looked around her cell, and sighed in frustration: what's there to do in a Hell hole like this? At that thought, she heard the clinking of boots upon stone and back up into a corner. _Not again please…_ She closed her eyes and clasped her hands over her eyes: desperately trying to escape for her current position. She heard the door open, and then felt pain on her left shoulder: they had whipped her again.

She hissed and clawed at the direction she felt the pain originate. "Stop now you dumb bitch!" Her female Russian torturer hissed, cracking the whip against the wall once more. Jasmine whimpered and looked up eyes bulging with fear, to find a surprising sight in front of her: A man about her age was being hulled in. He had short black hair, was tall, muscular and tan. He seemed to be trying to fight off the guards, and Jasmine wanted to warn him against defiance, but thought twice about speaking up.

"He's quite the feisty one isn't he?" The woman mused, earning a round of laughter from the guards. "Slap him a few times with your gun to help him learn who the master of this place is." The guard nodded quickly, closing the door and slamming the man into the wall, took out his gun making a loud _pop _echo across the room. The man screamed in pain and Jasmine flinched: though as much as she wanted to help, she couldn't do anything about it.

The Russian woman smiled in triumph and walked up towards the stranger. She clicked her tongue, and put two fingers under his shin, lifting his head for them to meet eye to eye. "Who are you?" She hissed in Russian, earning a confused look from the man. "What?" He croaked out, the Russian clicking causing another beat with the gun. "Who are you?" She repeated again her voice filled with annoyance. The man looked at her again, blood trickling from the side of his face his eyes filled with confusion. _He doesn't understand Russian? Then why on Earth did he come here? _Jasmine understood he could only speak English, but the Russian's seemed to think he was only playing stupid. "Hit him again. He doesn't seem to understand the meaning of obedience." The woman hissed, the guard raising up his gun again, the man below him preparing for another blow—"No. Stop" Jasmine whispered, causing all eyes to go on her.

"What did you say?" The woman snarled, swiftly walking to where Jasmine sat huddled and grabbing her by the hair. "I said stop; he can't be speak Russian." Jasmine whispered in Russian, her tone deadly. The woman let go of Jasmine, and nodded. "I see, so he is an American like you?" She asked, passing her whip from hand to hand. Jasmine nodded 'no'. "His accent, it sounds more like from England. Americans don't have such heavy accents."

"Would you force him to speak? We don't know any English." Jasmine thought this was completely wrong: letting another prisoner force dirt from another. But, she knew that she had no other choice, so she complied, walking up towards the injured man and kneeling down at eye level with him. "Listen to me, and listen to me good—"

"You speak English?" He sputtered, blood dribbling from his mouth. Jasmine swallowed and nodded. "Listen to me: I don't know who you are, and I could care less, but these Russians will beat you senseless until you tell them what they want to know, got it?" He gave her a dazed look. "How the hell am I supposed to respond when I don't even understand them?" He hissed, making the Russian woman give him a deadly look. "They asked me too basically be your translator. They say something, I translate, your respond and I respond in Russian." He nodded, and flinched from the gash on his head.

"So any progress with him Jasmine?" The woman asked, clicking her tongue impatiently. Jasmine nodded 'yes' and sat down next to the mystery man. "I'll ask you this one more time: what is your name?" Jasmine translated, and the man spoke, "My name is Lucas North. Why have you taken me?" His voice was now filled with anger, and he looked ready to attack, but Jasmine placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look that made him think otherwise. Jasmine looked back the woman, translated and the woman replied, "Lucas North? Ah yes, of course, the British spy," She smirked, and seemed to be enjoying this whole situation. "Why we captured you? Because we have reason to believe that you were passing valuable information to MI-5 that's why." She hissed, and the man, Lucas, paled when she hissed the name 'MI-5'.

Jasmine was so confused: these horrible people were keeping this man in for no reason. Well, they did seem to be pretty serious about this MI-5 thing. _What in the hell could that be?_ Lucas looked at her, edging her on to spill the information, and once she translated, he went silent. "What's wrong?" The woman snarled, walking over and slapping Lucas. "No, stop." Jasmine snapped, earning herself a whip lash. "Do not use that tone with me! Do you understand?" The woman rasped, her face flushed red with anger. Jasmine nodded 'yes' and the woman regained her composure. "Alright, let's give these two time to re-cooperate: we'll be back in the morning for more." And with that, the two left the room, leaving Lucas and Jasmine in the room alone.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence inside the room, Lucas broke it. "So, since we'll be dying together, might as well learn your name." He said, his raspy voice echoing around the room. "You hear the Russians, my name is Jasmine." She snapped back, feeling rather annoyed her solitude had been broken by this new cellmate. Lucas nodded and hissed when he finally remembered his injuries. Jasmine flinched at each moan that escaped his lips from the pain, and desperately wanted to help, but just didn't know how.

After a few hours of some more silence, his injuries had finally gotten slightly infected and he looked as though he might pass out. Jasmine panicked inside at the thought of this poor soul dying in this terrible place, and hoped that something would come to help her out. As though someone had been reading her thoughts, the little slide hole in the door opened, tossing two water bottles and a bag of old food inside.

Jasmine scurried over and picked up the water, twisting it open and patting Lucas awake. "Take off your shirt." Jasmine stated clearly, and Lucas gave her a confused look. "What?" He croaked out, making Jasmine roll her eyes. "You hear me: take off your damn shirt." Lucas lifted himself up, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off and placing it in front of him.

Jasmine didn't know why, but she just had to stare. Not just had to, she _needed _to stare at his half naked form. It had been so long since she had seen someone's form, someone's fit form to add and from a man who didn't just want to punish her. Her eyes looked up and down, side to side, memorizing Lucas' curves and muscles. She didn't know how long she had been staring, and didn't even know if she wanted to stop, but was interrupted from her thoughts, by the man himself clearing his throat weakly.

Jasmine shook her head and mumbled apologies in Russian, grabbing his shirt and bundling it up, pouring some of the water onto it. "Come here." She mumbled and Lucas scooted over, Jasmine placing her hand being his head and began dabbing the wet cloth unto his wounds. He hissed, but did his best to suppress it. Jasmine did the best she could with what she had, and in the end, had a passed out Lucas and a dry cloth pressed against his forehead. _I wonder what they want from him… But what I'm most worried about, is what extent they'll go to, to get the information from him…_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: I'm Not Dead

Jasmine awoke the next morning head spinning and vision blurry. She groggily got up from her uncomfortable position on the floor and yawned: hearing her neck and back crackle from the sudden movement. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, scrambling off the side almost as soon as she did.

She had completely forgotten about her new cell mate Lucas North, and his half naked appearance on the floor scared the living hell out of her. She placed her hand over her heart and almost screamed: her hand was covered in blood. Now you think her being in a cell for so long and having to deal with this substance all the time, she'd be used to it. No, it's been the opposite for Jasmine; her captivity has made her afraid of even the slightest bit of blood, no matter whose blood it is.

Her eyes went wide and her pace quickened when she saw that both of her hands were covered in it, from finger tip to elbow. She couldn't breathe, and it felt like two metal hands had gripped her wind pipe. She opened her mouth to try and receive some air, but the air felt solid, too thick to breathe. She was hyperventilating. _Jasmine, you need to calm down. Just hide your dirty hands and breathe before you kill yourself. _

Jasmine complied with her mind, and hid her hands behind her back, pressing her forehead against the cool walls, she took calming deep breaths. "In and out, in and out…" She said in her trance, rocking slightly as she calmed. _There; pulse has slowed and breathing is close to normal. _

Physically she might look fine, but mentally she had a problem: her two most useful part of her body were covered in blood, and she didn't know if she could force herself to look at them again. She could hide them behind her back for the day, but she knew that that would be quite pointless and foolish: she was in Russia for Christ's sake.

_Wait, how about you ask Lucas to clean them off? _Jasmine grinned at her brilliant new idea, and decided to make it a reality. She carefully waddled on her knees to where Lucas lay asleep. She bent her head and whispered, "Lucas, wake up." Lucas' eyes opened almost immediately after Jasmine whispered to him, making her jump.

Lucas got up, rubbing his neck muscles and looked up at Jasmine. "Good morning." He mumbled, a stupid grin plastered upon his face. Jasmine rolled her eyes and gave him a look which made his grin vanish. "What is it?" He asked, his eyes containing some bit of concern.

Jasmine suddenly felt very stupid: she wanted to ask him to rid her hands of the blood staining them, but wouldn't that make her look like a coward? Lucas would probably call her childish for fretting over something so pointless, and would just turn around and let her live with her misery. But, then there was the fact that it was _his _blood on her hands, and that if she wished to have it removed, he should comply.

Jasmine bit her lip and looked up at him the same look a lost puppy would give to its finder. "Could you rid me of this," She uncurled her hands from behind her back and showed them to Lucas, turning her head away from the scene: to afraid to even look at her arms once again.

Lucas raised his eyebrow at her strange behavior, and didn't do anything: he didn't exactly know what she wanted him to do anyway.

"What are you doing?" Jasmine opened one eye and gave him the most serious look she could muster at the moment. "Could you please get _this _off of me?" She snapped, but her voice trembled from her fear and embarrassment. Lucas looked like he was about to chuckle, but he seemed to be fighting hard to do so.

"You want me to clean your hands?" Jasmine nodded, and thought the question was utterly absurd; of course she wanted him to rid her hands of the blood, what else could she be asking?

Lucas' stupid grin returned again, as he made his way towards a half-empty bottle of water and his blood soaked shirt. He poured some of the remaining water unto his dry shirt and began rubbing it slowly unto Jasmine's arm.

She didn't know why, but a strange and foreign feeling began pooling in the pits of Jasmine's stomach. At first she thought it was nausea, but then thought otherwise when it doubled in intensity every time she and Lucas made eye-contact.

The feeling felt like little soft pricks traveling up and down her skin, leaving its little imprints along the way. Traveling from the tips of her fingers to her shoulders, to where Lucas would stop cleaning her off. A few times along, his fingertips had come in contact with her skin, turning it bright red.

Eventually, Jasmine completely forgot about why he was touching her arms and began to stare: watching the way his arms flexed as they traveled up and down hers. The way the muscles on his chests flexed slightly as he leaned forward to get closer to her arm. She could feel the warmth of his skin radiating off of him, and it felt wonderful against her cold body. And the smell of his hair, dear Lord, it was probably the best thing she had smelled in years.

"Jasmine, I'm done." Lucas stated clearly, bringing her back to her senses. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were now rid of that horrible fluid. She looked up at him, said nothing but her thanks shone in her eyes. Lucas understood and nodded simply.

"Listen Darshavin, this new prisoner seems a little difficult to break. Could you try some of your methods? You are after all our best." Jasmine froze and the little color she had left in her face left her. She had to think fast: Darshavin was the reason that she was in such a bad shape, and was the reason she was in this hell hole. If he was going to Lucas next, she needed to do something.

"Lucas get behind me." She stated as calmly as possible, her eyes never leaving the door. He whirled around and raised an eyebrow at her. "Pardon?" Jasmine gave him a deadly look and he couldn't help but shutter: her glances were so lifeless half the time, he sometimes wondered if she was dead. "Don't ask questions, just get behind me."

Too late: the door opened with a loud _crash_ and the woman, a guard and the infamous Darshavin bounded in. Jasmine almost screamed when she saw Darshavin, but quickly ran over and got in front of Lucas; her arms snaking their way behind him. "Jasmine what's going on?" He whispered, as she made them both back into a corner. "Just stay quiet, got it?" She hissed.

Darshavin saw the look of fear on Jasmine's face and just snickered. "You think backing up into a corner and acting like a scared puppy is going to make me forget you even are there my _amour_?" Jasmine shuttered and spit at the floor. Amour—lover.

The Russian woman smirked and walked over towards Jasmine and Lucas. "Jasmine you know who this is, and I'm sure that your little friend here will soon too. You see, he's mister North's new buddy, and I would appreciate you letting him free so Darshavin over there can get his work over with."

Though Jasmine knew better than being defiant here, she couldn't just give up this man to the spawn of Satan himself. She shook her head 'no', her eyes bulging with fear and feet twitching with anxiety. For her defiance, she earned a slap and a question, "Give him to us now. Do you want to earn the same punishment as he's going to receive?"

Jasmine could feel tears forming in her eyes, but bit her tongue hard to stop them from falling: she needed all the bravery and emotional strength she could get. "Aw what's wrong _amour_? Scared?" Darshavin snickered, causing the woman to laugh.

The feelings of fear evaporated from Jasmine and she looked Darshavin right in the eyes. "I'm not scared just changing." She snapped, making Darshavin raise an eyebrow. "Changing how?" Jasmine spit at his feet and felt her heart beat start quickening. "I'm changing emotionally, Darshavin. You should know plenty about changes and emotions shouldn't you? Oh wait: that's not possible: you're a heartless bastard, how could you?" She hissed making the woman's eyes go wide from surprise and Darshavin's face go red from anger.

Darshavin swiftly walked over and grabbed Jasmine by the way, her face an inch away from his. "You think that talking shit to me is going to protect your little spy friend over there? Well it's not. This 'tough' act that you're pulling right now is only going to give you a harsher punishment than you should really deserve." Jasmine laughed evilly. "Feeling a bit sympathetic for your favorite play toy?" She challenged, making Darshavin throw her into the wall.

"Jasmine!" She head Lucas scream, and felt hands on the side of her head. "Lucas what are you doing?" She hissed, making him back away from her. She silently felt stupid for snapping at him: she liked the feel of his hands on her wounds and scars. "I was trying to help you, but it seems that you don't want it." Jasmine looked up at him and nodded 'no'. "Lucas, they're going to torture you, _I _was trying to help you."

Lucas looked at her like she had just said she wanted to marry him. "_What_?" He croaked out, scooting back over towards Jasmine. "Listen, just don't say anything else let me handle—"

"What's going on over here? Proposing now are we?" The woman smirked, earning a deadly glare from Jasmine. "You heard Darshavin you little bitch: time to earn your punishment." She snapped her fingers and Darshavin walked over grabbing her roughly by the arm and tossed her into another corner in the room. "Now to put you in your place," He hissed, unblocking his belt.

Jasmine didn't know where she got the strength, but she let the most horrid scream out of her mouth that seemed to scream out part of her soul as well. It seemed everything in the room had stopped after her little moment, and the only sound that resonated inside the room were Jasmine's hysterical sobs and breathing.

"Darshavin, I said punishment not rape you fucking idiot." The Russian woman snarled, causing Darshavin to flinch slightly from being so stupid. "Get a bucket of water and some wires you dumb ass, now!" The woman snarled, making Darshavin nod feverishly and run off, his footsteps echoing throughout the prison. The woman gave Lucas a deadly look before walking towards the door and slamming it shut with a _clunk. _

Lucas didn't know what just happened. All that he knew was that it was serious enough to make Jasmine hurl out that horrid noise. He glanced at her sobbing form and was battling with his mind on what to do: comfort her, and let her let it all out on her own. He didn't have that much experience with woman, but it couldn't hurt to comfort a fellow human being could it?

_She might think I'm going soft. Maybe I should let her cry it out…_ He looked back up at Jasmine and almost said something; the right sleeve of her shirt had fallen out of place and he could now see something he didn't before: she had a large scar running down from her neck downwards. He couldn't see where it ended, but just seeing it gave him chills. He couldn't bring himself to imagine how painful it must have been to receive it.

"Jasmine," He began, but stopped. What could he say to her? What could he possibly come up with to make her feel better? Instead of speaking, he scooted himself over and softly placed a hand upon her shoulder, feeling her relax almost instantly.

Jasmine looked up to find Lucas by her side. She nodded her thanks and placed a shaky hand over his: she squeezed it and embraced the warmth. He was her crack of sunlight in the darkness of hell.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Dreaming of the Past

Jasmine shook from the cold and pain she was feeling at the moment; once Darshavin had returned, he had come back with an electricity board and some wires and a hose. Jasmine had been imprisoned long enough to know what was going to happen to her and Lucas.

Since she was the one who caused the problem in the first place, she was the one to be first subjected to the terrible torture. The Russian women grabbed her by the hair and tied her to one of the polls holding up the building. Darshavin then stepped in dumping the bucket of cold water over her head and allowing it to seep deep into her hair and trickle down her body.

Jasmine closed her eyes and though it was possibly the worse decision at the moment, she closed her eyes and braced for the impact. She always told herself throughout her life that bracing for something bad, like getting a shot, was possibly one of the worst decisions one could make. Your brain knew something bad was coming but didn't know when it was going to occur; the waiting and bracing for the impact were the worst part of the torture, because when it finally happened the pain would be much worse than if you saw it approaching.

When she heard the sizzle of the wires and snapping of the box turning on, she bit her tongue and her body braced for the impact. Then she felt it; the sting beginning on her sides and then spreading quickly up her entire body, burning her skin and shocking her nerves. She screamed loudly, causing Darshavin to flinch and the Russian women to laugh cruelly. When he removed the wires, she had only a few seconds to stabilize herself before they went at it again.

She didn't know how long this lasted, but it seemed like days even weeks. The pain was so awful, it felt like being tossed into a fire and being left there to burn. But except of burning, you just stood there: still alive and well but your flesh and nerves burning. When Darshavin had been told to stop, she was untied and tossed into a corner, screaming in agony once more.

Jasmine's already calloused and scarred skin had been added some new edition scars; little scabs and serious burns bore into her flesh where ever the plugs had been clipped on. She felt tears fall from her cheeks, but screamed once they landed on one of her burns on her left arm: the salt stinging the wound like another electric shock.

The pain that shot through her body each time she moved was becoming too much, even for Jasmine. She could feel herself growing tired, her brain forcing her nerves to calm and eyes to become heavy so that she could sleep. Her eyes kept blurring her vision, and eventually her brain had won; a struggling Lucas her last seen scene.

A memory;

_Jasmine could feel the sand between her toes, she could feel the heat of the sun upon her neck and she could hear the cawing of the seagulls flying above her. She ran towards the sound of water; skipping of rocks and spinning around her crooked smile lighting up her face. Jasmine finally made it, towards the water, towards the ocean. _

_She placed her hands on her hips and looked very pleased with herself. She looked around her and looked down at her chest, taking the sunglasses clipped on her shirt top off and placing them over her eyes. She then turned to her right and saw people a little farther off waving at her, looking very happy. She felt like she knew those people—but she waved back at them almost instinctively. She saw them smile, and saw a few other women come up and start jumping up and down, showing off some food that they had bought._

_Jasmine shrugged this off and shouted back, "I'll be there in a minute!" her voice young and so unlike her present one. She dipped one toe into the cold ocean and shivered with delight and from the cold. She took a deep breath and jumped into the water; letting it envelope her body and its chilly beauty welcome her in. _

A memory;

_Jasmine was sitting at a small table, her brother across from her, her cousin Connor to the right of her brother, and her cousin Molly to the right of her. Jasmine looked around and they were in a restaurant of some sort with an olden look to it; the roof was high and supported by large oak beams. The walls themselves looked almost from the time of monarchy. _

_She looked at her family and noticed that they were all dressed a certain way; in mostly black, and wearing fancy clothing. Jasmine took the time to look at herself and saw that she was wearing all black also, but a skirt and tights with flat shoes. "Grandpa J.R's funeral… that's right." She thought to herself, and focused her attention back to her family, laughing loudly when Connor told them a joke. "So, next he goes; go gadget gun." He says, making a finger-gun and 'dying' in front of them. Jasmine giggled loudly, and soon shushed the two boys due to the food arriving. _

"_What is this? I ordered steak not some weird toast thing." Her brother Liam complained. "I know, and—it's really hard to cut too." Jasmine snarled, stabbing the over-well done steak with her knife. "Ha sucks for you two!" Connor joked, taking a bite or his chicken only to soon spit it out. "Ha, hypocrite!" Molly snapped jabbing the toast with her toast and flinging it at Connor. "Dude what the heck?" Connor snarled, throwing the toast back at Molly. "Stop throwing food, it's so childish!" Jasmine laughs, making everyone start laughing and joking around. _

A memory;

_Jasmine sat down upon a plushy black leather chair, a glass plate and silver wear being place in front of her. "Kevin, go and get the turkey." Joanne, her grandmother snaps, placing glass cups in front of all the guests. "Joanne, I'll just go and get the rolls and casserole." His wife Dorothy whispers. Eventually, all the food was on the table and the whole family was now sitting down; whine and plates being piled up at the minute. _

"_Ah—I'll take some turkey and gravy oh and mash potatoes of course. Oh and hand me some of that casserole, and the rolls: can't have a complete meal without rolls!" Jasmine laughed, sitting down once her food and digging in. Her cousins and brother soon came back to the table, their plates too full of food. "No matter how bad Mims food can seem at times—this stuff is good." Connor said happily, stuffing a large piece of mash potatoes into his mouth. "Boy, how can you eat potatoes without gravy?"Jasmine snapped in a fake accent, making Molly giggle. "He doesn't like gravy." Molly explained, making Jasmine grimace. "Weirdo…" She mumbled, making Connor give her a look. "Says you: you thirteen year old teenager." _

Jasmine groggily awoke in her damp cell, to only moan and fall to the floor in pain. She could feel whatever food she had eaten previously coming back to the surface, and before she could even get up—she gurgled out whatever she did have in her stomach. She shakily pulled herself up with her arms and laid her back against a wall to help her breathing and until her stomach settled. She looked around the room, and saw no change except for the stray wires, water and sudden chill through the cell.

Jasmine shuddered violently and saw goose bumps rise up all over her body, even on her new wounds and scars. The memory of her torture finally came back to her and the pain hit her like another electric shock. She staggered to the right and vomited again opening her eyes once she had stopped. "Jasmine, are you okay?" A hoarse voice asked from her left.

Jasmine jumped and thought that she might pass out from the sudden noise and excitement. She whirled her head to her left, only to make herself dizzy and find Lucas there simply sitting cross-legged. "L-Lucas? You're okay?" She managed to croak out, Lucas nodding his head politely, scooting over towards her. "They didn't do it for as long as they did it to you. So, the worst I received was a few burns and a shock to the nerves a few times." Jasmine nodded relieved that he was alright but she also had another feeling boiling up inside of her; jealousy.

She found it very surprising that when she first arrived to Russia that they had not gone "soft" on her at all. Making Lucas the special one and going easy on him seemed totally unfair. Adding unto the fact that he was here for a much more serious crime than she was, only shocking him once or twice, seemed very unfair. But, Jasmine needed all the companionship she could get and since Lucas was her only option: she kept her mouth shut and buried these feelings away.

"How long have I been out?" She croaked out again, rubbing the area over her right thigh, hissing when she accidentally made contact with one of the burns. "I'd say a good two hours or more. When they stopped, I'd thought you'd had a concussion or something—seeing as too how hard you had hit the floor once they were finished with you. I could see you were trying damn hard to stay awake, and I ran over to try and do something… like I could do anything. But when I crawled over, they went for me next."

Jasmine nodded, and suddenly felt overcome with guilt for being jealous of Lucas; this man had no idea what to expect here. He's probably never been shot once, let alone tortured with electricity and water. He doesn't even know how to speak the countries native language. How he might survive here without some form of help—Jasmine could never think to grasp that idea.

"Oh," was all she responded, and began to examine herself, looking—really looking at the damage that had occurred. She found that she had severe burns up both arms and thighs, and she felt a slight tinge of pain every time she touched the left side of her head. Lucas too saw what had happened to Jasmine and suddenly felt very selfish; he barely received burns on his arms and here was this woman with severe burns up and down her body.

"Jasmine—your arms." Lucas said his voice barely over a whisper. Jasmine turned and he could see the pain of him seeing her like this in her eyes. "It is fine Lucas, I've received worse." She seemed to be trying to get Lucas off of the subject, but he seemed to have had enough of her hiding. "Jasmine, please tell me the worse you've ever received here." Jasmine looked very frightened all of a sudden; like Lucas had opened her mind and seen the worse times in her life without her consent of doing so. "Lucas please don't make me re-live those… I'd rather talk about my previous life than…" She quickly slapped her hand over her mouth and looked very ashamed of herself; she had spoken about her life, her _true _life. _How I miss my easy and rule-free life… My family, friends—everything that I had—I'll probably never experience it again…_ She thought to herself, and suddenly; she was crying in front of Lucas.

Lucas had seen her cry plenty of times, and he knew that by now that he should be comfortable about it. But, this let loose of emotions seemed more true—seemed more from her heart and actual sense of being than from something physical. Lucas inched his way forward and put a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her tense and seemed urged to pull away but she stayed.

She turned and looked at him right in the eyes; his clear and filled with pity, hers red and filled with sorrow. "Lucas—I want to go home." She mumbled, before leaning unto his shoulder and crying softly; letting the dreams she had while knocked out taunt her.

**Author's Note: I just want to thank those of you who have been commenting on my story. (Especially CaptainBecker: thank you so much for all of your comments each chapter I've published. Without your reviews, I wouldn't continue this story. I would also like to thank my newest fan; teenchickme. Thank you for your review also, more reviews means I will certainly continue this story. I hope you too enjoy this chapter, and I am also very sorry for making it come out so late. (I've been rather busy, but I promise to update as soon as I can.)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Feint

_One...two…three…four...get up, now! _Her eyes shot open, a bead of sweat trickling down her nose—soon lading on the cold concrete floor with a soft: _tap. _She was lying on her stomach, each exhale causing her ribs to push painfully on the hard floor. She shakily got up, her head reeling from the lack of sleep, water and food. She buried her head in her hands, coughing and shaking—her whole body convulsing—trying badly to calm her nerves and stomachs down…not good enough. Watery-bile erupted from her still tightening throat, causing herself to choke on the liquid. She gagged, the bile soaking her dress, leaving a bad after-taste in her mouth. She spat, taking off her matted dress and wringing it out the best she could—shivering slightly from the cold in the room.

She put on her dress, looking around the room and noticed something—Lucas was gone. She racked her brain, trying desperately to remember what had happened to him. Was he being tortured? Was he being taken to another cell? Was he being executed? Terrible thoughts raced through her head, as she tried to think of where that woman—or Darshavin—could have taken him. There was a loud _bang_ which caused her—Jasmine—to jump, and her eyes to whirl around the room. _Where would that have come from?_ She thought, trying best to make sense of the situation.

_Bang, bang, bang! _

There is was again—and it sounded like it was coming from the room across. Jasmine scurried over to the door, placing her ear upon it and listened… "If you tell us MI-5 secrets, we let you go faster." The Russian woman's cruel voice hissed, a slapping noise echoing through the halls. "I'm telling you…I know nothing…" Lucas' voice responded, the woman clicking her tongue. "Now if that truth, then why you hear in first place?" There was silence. "Told you he was lying," Darshavin's voice spoke up now—but in Russian. "I already knew that idiot, I just wanted to try again…you know how torture works. It eventually breaks them, but I guess he just wants to remain defiant." The woman purred in her native tongue, Jasmine sensing the helplessness that Lucas must be feeling. "What should we do with him?" Darshavin asks, the woman humming. "I'm not too sure…water-boarding sounds rather boring at the moment—how about you get the poker out?" Jasmine's eyes went wide, and adrenaline began pumping through her body. _What should you do? How can you get their attention away from Lucas quickly enough to at least make them—wait, you _are_ a woman. _

Jasmine backed away from the door slightly, and began banging as hard as she could with her fists. "No, no, no! You cannot, and you _will _not do that to him! No!" She screamed, as loud as she could, hoping the two across the hall would hear her. She continued banging, and banging and banging…until—the sound of keys. She chuckled, relieved that they had turned their focus on her—switching to her legs, pounding harder and harder, causing the door itself to shake. "Knock it off you dumb bitch!" The woman snarled, on the opposite end of the door. Jasmine kicked the door forcefully once more—feeling much better that her "point" was proven, she quickly moved a good distance away from the door.

Just as she planned, the woman, Darshavin and even their prisoner—Lucas—entered her cell to see what all fuss was for. "What the _fuck _do you think you're playing at?" Darshavin spat. Jasmine looked up, her eyes cold and emotionless. "I could hear what you two were saying, in that room! I heard what you were going to do to him…and it's just—_disgusting._" The woman sneered. "What? You think we too hard on British spy?" Jasmine spat. "You're acting barbaric, and for what; a few names, a few locations? Think those will really help you achieve anything?" The woman rolled her eyes. "This why you still here, American. You think you so better than everyone else, thinking you can talk way out of situation. Well, guess what, today luck just changed," She smacked the leather whip on the floor, causing Jasmine to jump. "Grab her," She snarled, Darshavin walking over and grabbing Jasmine by the hair. "Let me go!" She squeaked, thrashing at her captor with her nails. "Oh shut it," Darshavin spat, throwing her to the wall, causing her to hit her head painfully against the concrete. She hissed in pain, her arms soon being lifted up—allowing herself to be chained.

The woman grabbed the robe tying Lucas and tugged on it, pulling his forward like some kind of dog. She led him to the opposite side of the room, and chained him up as well; he and Jasmine looking at each other in fear, and confusion. "You may be wondering why I put you like this, yes? Well, I think torture be best when both suffer," She grinned, and then whispered something in Darshavin's ear. Jasmine strained against her bonds, trying to hear what she was whispering to him—but it was futile. As quickly as the secret was said, he was out of the room leaving a deadly stillness in the room.

The quiet in the room was beginning to stifle Jasmine—along with her thoughts as to what Darshavin could be bringing. Lucas too, was beginning to feel very uneasy. He had already gone through water-boarding, electrocution, whipping…he couldn't even bare to think what these two had in store for the both of them. After what seemed like eternity, Darshavin returned with two, long metal poking sticks and a lighter. Jasmine paled at the sight, but didn't dare say anything of being the first to go.

The woman turned and saw Jasmine's expression and smirked cruelly. "Oh I love how this one knows, and you do not." Lucas looked at Jasmine in confusion, but she couldn't dare look at him. How could she explain such a horrible thing to him with a straight face? She didn't want to give the satisfaction to their torturers of watching her breakdown even before the actual torture.

The woman walked slowly towards Jasmine, but then turned on her heel and walked towards Lucas. "You stronger—physically of course, you being man. Don't know about mind, though," She sneered, and moved out of the way to allow Darshavin to perform his dirty work; placing the tip of a poker under the red flame of the lighter. Lucas kept his eyes on the poker, his body quivering from fear and adrenaline pumping through his systems; he needed to get away from this; he needed to talk himself out of this he needed—_hiss_…

He wasn't sure whether or not anything had happened, the realization of being burned—being stabbed with a red-hot poker, had not yet reached his brain; had not yet reached his human senses. The senses that usually tell your body to do something: to scream. To move away. To shout. Something. He first heard Jasmine scream in anguish, and then he looked down and saw the metal had burned right through his skin; leaving a bubbling imprint upon his flesh. His expression went from confusion, to worry and finally to utter terror—and that's when the pain hit him.

The burning…the smell…the pain…oh God, the pain! Lucas screamed, Jasmine's weeping adding unto the noise. Darshavin smiled cruelly, and the woman hissed in delight. "Oh I loved the sound that it made—do it again," She whispered in Russian, Jasmine screaming, "No!" Another stab—_hiss…_ Lucas screamed much quicker this time; anguish and utter fear resonating in his cries. Again, again and again he stabbed him; leaving more and more bubbling imprints upon his skin.

Jasmine continued to cry, but her screams for cease would not be heard—neither of them cared whether or not Lucas died. "Please, stop!" She yelled in Russian; her scream fading out into sobs. "You've done enough Darshavin! Please, stop! Please!" She screamed, it fading into sobbing as well. Darshavin turned around, rolling his eyes. "Will you shut the hell up, woman!" He snarled, placing the poker upon her left cheek. Jasmine screamed in pain; her skin bubbling and hissing as the burning metal burned through the layers of her soft flesh. Darshavin removed it from her face and walked out: completely satisfied. The woman merely smirked, and removed the chains from Lucas' arm—he falling to the ground in a heap of exhaustion and pain. She then did the same for Jasmine, she falling Lucas' suit. And then, she too walked out—locking the door as she left.

Jasmine looked up, her lip quivering and tears stinging the horrible wound on her face, as she tried to make her way towards Lucas. When she did, she was completely spent—collapsing unto the cold floor next to him. She licked her lips, trying to gain some form of moisture to speak. "Lucas," She rasped out, earning to response. She shakily lifted herself up and looked down at him. His eyes were wide open—wide from fear. He was shivering from the pain, cold, exhaustion…looking quite ready to lose it.

"Lucas," Jasmine moaned out, more tears escaping her eyes. "I'm so sorry…" She whispered, placing her forehead against his and cupping his face. "It's not your fault, Jasmine…" He replied quietly, his voice shaking. Jasmine sniffled, "Oh Lucas," She whispered, stroking his cheek. "We made their foundations…quiver…we're that strong…" He whispered, smiling lightly, his eyelids growing heavy. Jasmine smiled. "They haven't extinguished our candles yet…"

Author's Note: I am terribly sorry taking _this _long for the latest chapter to come out. I have been terribly busy with projects, tests, family issues and my own issues. I'm terribly sorry once more, and I hope that this chapter will suffice the amount of waiting you, my readers, have endured. I hope you'll continue reading this story, and I promise to update as soon as I can.


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